I went into this book expecting it to be a motivational running guide written by a super-runner who runs marathons at 8-minute mile pace, has defined abs, muscular legs, is a health-food nut, and is a true lover of running. You know, those people who make running marathons look easy. I'm the opposite of that, so while it's nice to get advice from those amazing runners, it was downright refreshing to read a book written from a perspective I could relate to.
For those of us who lack motivation (even super-runners go through that every now and again), or for people who have never run much before and think they may want to start, this book offered humorous advice from a non-runner to non-runners (or non-super-runners). I wouldn't rely on it for true training information (consult an actual super-runner or a book written by one for that), but for someone looking to start running, it gave a real look at what running is like. Again, sometimes super-runners (or as Dawn calls them, Serious Runners), make running look so easy than I tend to forget how much it actually sucks half of the time, and then I feel terrible about myself for not being able to glide effortlessly through a 5K or a long run. In the book, Dawn has a way of being real about how hard it can be, but also how worth it is in the end given that we are able-bodied people, and we should use our bodies before it's too late.
I recommend this book for anyone who needs a little nudge to get back out there, or even if you're already out and want a good book to read in your downtime.

It's been almost two weeks, but I've yet to write about my 4th of July race.

I was supposed to be off for the weekend and would be running a local 5K with Jon on the 3rd, then do fun 4th of July things on, well, the 4th.  Only two days before the weekend, I found out Jon had to work.  So to make a long story short, my mom offered to fly me home for the weekend because it was my Dad's birthday and it would be a fun surprise for him.  I felt a little guilty about missing my race, so I found one at the last minute that I could run down there.

The morning of the race - Independence Day - was a comfortable (and patriotic) 76°.  Well, comfortable to those who weren't running.  Anything over 70° with a dewpoint over 60° and it feels like 95° to me while I'm running.  The race started on the most charming road, aptly named Main Street.   Front porches were decorated with American flag bunting and the street had music piped in while we picked up our race numbers.  Everyone lined up  (I tend to stick toward the back) and we listened to the Star Spangled Banner in front of the fire station.  The end of the song went something like this:
Leave it to a spectating dog to break the crowd into laughter during a song which usually gives listeners goosebumps.

During the race,  I took it slow (as expected due to not training through the entire spring), and finished in 32:57.  After leaving Main Street, the route took us through a neighborhood without shade and it was here that I realized how out of shape I am.  Not even two miles into the race and I was already itching for the finish.  How am I going to run a half marathon in two months?  I have a lot of work to do.

Regardless of all that, the race was nice and I enjoy the goodies at the end.  There were a few wading pools full of ice water that held bottled water.  I hoped to "accidentally" fall in headfirst when I stretched a little too far to grab myself a bottle, but unfortunately I didn't.

Most of my workouts are uneventful. Maybe someone will honk their horn as I run by, but other than that it's pretty typical to get an entire workout in without anything extraordinary occurring. However yesterday's workout was not one of them.

Sometime during the late morning, Jon and I left the apartment - him on foot, myself on wheels - and went for a 5 mile run/bike ride together. The air was slightly cool still, but it was otherwise perfect exercising weather. We made our way into town, past businesses and through quiet neighborhoods. My bike chain popped off at one point, so we stopped while Jon put it back on (covering his hands in grease in the process). About a mile from home, he took off for a quick uphill jaunt (far too steep for my bike and I to handle) and said he would be right back down.


Fifteen minutes later, he runs up behind me, coming from the opposite direction that I was expecting him, clamoring for my iPhone.
"What's going on? What took you so long?"
He went on to explain that an old woman popped her tire as he was running past, and she didn't realize it was flat yet. Jon ran up to her car while she was stopped in traffic and told her that the tire was flat. She said "Oh dear!" and pulled to the side of the road. Jon told her he would be right back and ran down the hill to the gas station. They told him that they don't offer roadside assistance (and apparently they don't offer help just for the kindness of helping, either), so he looped back around to where I was waiting.

Jon ran and I biked alongside him back to where the woman was standing by her car. She had her AAA card out but had never used it before, so Jon used my iPhone to call them with her info. We waited with her until AAA arrived. For those 30 or 40 minutes, she told us stories of her grown children and grandchildren, about her late husband, and about the various jobs she's held throughout her 90 years. She asked about our upcoming wedding and was so genuinely happy for us, despite knowing us for only 40 minutes.


Once AAA showed up and changed her tire, we told her to take it slow on the donut tire and get it changed right away. Over and over she thanked us and told us how grateful she was that we were there to help her. She wanted our names and address, but didn't have a pen, so I took her information down on my iPhone and promised to send her a card.

Up until that point (from the day before) I had been having an awful time, emotionally. A mix of homesickness and the stresses of certain aspects of adult life had me on the couch in my pajamas, crying over the phone to my mother. Jon was trying all that he could to bring me out of it, finally making me go on a bike ride with him. I'll admit, my mood was slowly getting better, but I still intended to retreat to my spot on the couch when I returned home. However, after the events that transpired, my mood was lifted. One of the things our new friend said to us before she left was how Jon and I were so blessed to have found each other. When asking about our jobs, she told us we were so blessed to not only have jobs, but to get to work together in a good field. I know people tell us these things all the time, but for some reason in that moment, sitting on a stone wall with the early afternoon sun beating down on us, it felt different. This 90 year old woman was speaking from her heart to two twenty-somethings who stopped to help her, in return giving us the only thing she could, and that was her knowledge of what's important in life. After all, when you're 90 years old, you know a thing or two about it. When speaking of her late husband, rather than focusing on the fact that he is no longer alive, she instead said she was lucky to have had him for 51 years. Even through one of the saddest things a person can experience - the death of a loved one - she was still able to remain positive and focus on the good. For me, that was enough to snap me out of whatever mood I was in and make me realize that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

I'm not a religious person, so I don't believe in divine intervention, but something made my day play out the way it did for a reason. If we hadn't been in town at the exact time that we were, we may not have met our new friend, and I may have come home and spent the rest of that gorgeous day on the couch. Instead I came home feeling hopeful and positive and had a terrific remainder to my day. Was it necessarily a life-changing event? Maybe not. But then again, perhaps it was.

I'll let you know once I'm 90.

How's my training going? My training is non-existant. Between spring cleaning the apartment, wedding planning, and disgusting weather (39° and sleeting last week), I have not gone for a single run in two weeks. I know. I'm horrible. I'm a bad runner. I've probably lost most of my fitness. And even after my motivation has started to come back after volunteering at the Boston Marathon (post to come soon), I still find myself sitting here on the couch, at 8:30 on a beautiful spring morning writing about how I haven't run in awhile instead of getting out there to actually run.

But the thing is, I'm bored of running around our neighborhood.

Let me explain. We live in an apartment complex just off a main route in town. Anywhere to the left of the apartment is commercial area: main roads, shopping centers, restaurants, etc. Not exactly runner friendly. To the right is residential area -great! - but there are only two ways you can go down this way. And on every run, I run those same roads. I am so bored of them. The thought of having to run past that same doctor's office and that same wooded area and that same condo complex bores me to pieces. The variety in the run doesn't come until later - if I'm going longer than 4 miles. I just can't get myself out the door with the thought of that same start to my run.

Does this even make sense? I don't think it does, and yet I can't get past it. I'm wasting away this lovely morning that I could be outside running by sitting inside my apartment. I even bought a super cute new running skirt at the expo this weekend, and even that won't get me out the door. I need a new route, only I can't get to one from here unless I drive somewhere. But driving to a neighborhood to go running? Isn't that a little backwards?

I have no idea how to get past this. But the longer I sit and think about it, the warmer it will become outside and the less comfortable the run will be. So I'm going to eat breakfast now and put on my running skirt and see where that gets me.

Hopefully it's got me running past that doctor's office.